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impossible in England."
    She made a mental note not to tell him that she was closely related to several noblemen, some of whom had their share of arrogance. "Have you created yourself as a new man, Gavin?" He smiled with a touch of humor. "I've done my best."
    She divided the last of the wine between their glasses. "A good thing there's no more, or I'd be in danger of drinking too much. I'm surprised there's any wine at all, actually, since the Indies are Muslim."
    "My Malay steward, Suryo, is my expert on the Islands. He says while Maduri is nominally Muslim, there is still a Hindu influence, as well as older, traditional beliefs. In other words, the Maduris worship Allah but like to drink." Covering a yawn, the captain got to his feet. "It's late, and we both need rest. There is much to be done tomorrow."
    "Good night," she said, feeling safe for the first time in months. "And thank you." He smiled again, this time with a warmth that reached across the room and eased her heart. His expression said that she was no longer alone. Gavin Elliott was not only kind, but perceptive. What a remarkable man.
    As he withdrew to his bedroom, she stepped behind the screen and stripped off her sarong and kebaya before donning the shirt again. Lord, what luxury to have a clean garment to sleep in!
    If-when-she was free, she'd never take such things for granted again.
    Drowsily she rolled up in the ikat and rested her head on a pillow, hoping her fatigue would allow her to sleep despite her excitement. Tomorrow, God willing, she would become a free woman. And all because of a stranger who, in one short hour, had become her hero.

CHAPTER 5
    Gavin awoke early, his fuzzy head making him wonder if he'd dreamed the previous night's encounter. No, it had been real-he could never have imagined a woman like Alexandra Warren. He rose, shaving and dressing in his normal subdued style rather than the gaudy faux uniform. Since he would give the sultan his decision, he'd do it as himself.
    Quietly he entered the main room. The gilded cage glowed in the dawn light, the sinuous patterns at top and bottom improbably pretty for a slave cage. Not seeing Alex, he circled the enclosure to make sure she was there. It wasn't impossible that the sultan could have had her removed during the night. But she was safely curled up behind the screen, her finely cut features relaxed in sleep. Her strength amazed him. She'd spent the previous six months like a caged bird beating frantically against the bars of slavery, desperate to escape and find her daughter. Knowing how the loss of his own daughter haunted him, he could only begin to imagine how much worse it would be to lose an eight-year-old. He hoped to God that Alex would someday be reunited with her Katie, but the odds weren't good.
    She sighed and rolled onto her back. The coverlet fell away, revealing that she wore only his shirt, which covered her only to mid-thigh.
    The sight of her bare, shapely legs was piercingly erotic, and struck him with the impact of a swinging spar.
    After a dozen heartbeats, he wrenched his gaze away and retreated to the bedroom, shamed by his desire for a woman who was so vulnerable. Beautiful female slaves were not bought to be scullery maids, and Alexandra Warren had surely endured abuse and rape from her owners before being discarded as insufficiently docile. A lesser woman would be hysterical or paralyzed. Alex had been honed to pure steel. Though he couldn't undo the humiliations she'd suffered, he could honor her tacit desire not to discuss what had happened, and treat her with the respect she deserved. He rustled through his belongings, deliberately making noise, before returning to the main room.
    "Alex?"
    "Just a moment," she called.
    He saw shadowy movements behind the screen and heard the sound of tearing fabric. Then she emerged with the bright sarong swishing gracefully around her ankles, and his voluminous shirt converted into a tunic. With her battered shirt